Enemies of Cerberus
by Samson-But-Bigger
Summary: Corporal Toombs survived the Thresher Maw attack on Akuze, he survived years of torture at the hands of Cerberus, now his crusade for revenge continues. Teaming up with the toughest mercs and facing off against the worst the galaxy has to offer. NO OC's.


To: Corporal Chris Toombs

From: Doctor Elisa S'Dori

Subject: May the Goddess guide you

Dear Mr Toombs

As you have not been to one of our sessions for over a month, I have been forced to write you out of my schedule in favour of other, more punctual patients. In the time we spent together I feel you have progressed significantly from when you first came to us, but I believe that you still have a long way to go before you can return to the life you once lived, if you can at all. I sincerely hope that you can, Christopher, in time, and I hope that wherever you are, you will find what you are looking for. I cannot imagine the things that were done to you Christopher, any lesser man would've perished, but you survived, and whilst I know you do not believe in any sort of God (as you so often and vehemently made clear to me), I cannot help but feel that the Goddess Athame has some plan for you. I wish I could help you Chris, but there is nothing more I can do for you, all I ask is that you do not stray from who you are, from _what _you are. You are a good man, Corporal, please, for me, stay that way.

Doctor S'Dori

He awoke suddenly; the sharp whistle of the alarm on his Omni-tool pierced the heavy silence that oppressed the room. He glanced at the clock beside him; the time read 5:30 pm, Earth-time. He looked out the small window of his apartment and breathed heavily. Then he closed his eyes and thanked God he was awake. Being awake spared him the dreams, the dreams of blood and pain, of fear and death, the dreams of Akuze. His name was Christopher Toombs; he had been an Alliance marine. After Akuze, he was nothing. Akuze used to be something too, he thought, it used to be home, for people he'd never gotten to meet. When the colony went dark, his unit had been sent to respond. They were there one day, only one day before hell opened upon them. Toombs no longer remembered details, only the noise of the Thresher Maws as they tore apart the camp, and everyone in it, the fear of death and the pain of his open wounds. But, as if the entire event was not punishment enough, Toombs found, after the dust settled upon the bodies of his friends, that he remained alive. That is when he first encountered them, Hades dogs: Cerberus. They seemed delighted to see him, and for his part, he figured salvation had come. He was wrong. They kept him alive, sure, but they made sure he endured every kind of pain he could endure, and many he could not. This torture continued for years. Time became non-existent; he lost his grip on reality. Only pain remained, pain inflicted upon him by Cerberus. Pain kept him alive, until he could no longer feel it, then only his hatred was left. Every day, in the time between experiments, spent in his squalid cell, he honed his mind and body. Every day he saw the doctors and the soldiers, the men and women who came and went. To him, they were all the same, they were all Cerberus. He listened out for details, his mind became a vault, in which he stored all information, no matter now irrelevant it seemed. He remembered names and faces, anything that would allow him to find these people upon his escape, should he escape. That chance finally came, one day, when the very Cerberus facility he was in was attacked. He didn't care who, he didn't care why, all he cared about was the fact that the guards rushed out of the room, and the scientists began to prepare to leave. Slowly, he began to dislocate the fingers on his right hand, as he had practiced for years in his cell. After this, he cracked the bones in his palm, and then slipped his broken hand through the restraint. Carefully he snapped his fingers back into place and tore away the binding strap around his other wrist. Now he could undo the restraints on his feet. Just like that, he was free. Well not entirely, there was still the issue of the guard posted outside the door and the two scientists yet to leave. Slowly, Toombs began to walk towards the first scientists, his head tilted. The man looked to be in his early thirties, he had a receding hairline, a gold wedding ring on his left hand, it was laden with scratches, he'd been married for a while. He was tall, and his stance suggested that he walked with a lean, but his feet were planted straight and firm upon the floor, he must've been wearing insoles. The ink stains on his finger suggested that he wrote his files in pen, as opposed to storing them on his Omni-tool, meaning he had some fondness for this archaic style of recording data. On the desk beside him there was a pen, silver and slim, engraved with the words "do humanity proud – Michelle Xx" and written in smudged ink on the file beside it was a record of the latest experiment, titled by one Doctor Kane Sanderson. Toombs reached out for the Doctor Sanderson, taking hold of the back of his head and twisting round his skull quickly. The other scientist turned to face him at the sound of breaking bone, calling immediately for help. The guard burst through the door, pistol drawn, but the scientist was dead, and Toombs was nowhere to be seen. As she rushed forward to inspect the scene, something moved behind her, someone sliced at the space between the plates of armour on her suit. She screamed and turned to fire, but Toombs smashed the surgical scalpel in his hand through her helmet's visor, stopping mere millimetres above her head. Stunned for half a second, she fired two shots into Toombs' stomach upon her revival, whilst Toombs prepared to slice her with another piece of medical equipment. He fell quickly, and the guard removed her helmet, sinking to her knees and breathing heavily. As she worked to remove the scalpel from her helmet, Toombs stirred behind her, soon he was upon her. Having no weapons of any kind, Toombs mercilessly tore at her throat with his bare teeth, until she coughed and died fitfully. Then he took her gun, applied some Omni-gel to his wounds, and proceeded to crawl through the ventilation ducts out onto the surface. From there he had stolen one of Cerberus' ships and left the planet. He had searched for that planet afterwards; it turned out to be called Ontarom, located in Newton system. He had always wanted to return to the planet's surface, see what had become of the bases there, go to the room where he had died, seen the operating table on which he was reborn. But some force within him, some sickening lurch of blood and fear, always prevented his descent. After his escape he had stolen, cheated and killed his way to enough credits to hire a ship and a crew of mercenaries. Then Toombs travelled the galaxy, hunting and killing the names and faces he had so furiously memorised. He felt within him unending pain and hatred, but ever since the experiments on Ontarom, ever since Akuze, it was the closest he had come to happiness. He killed dozens of people, he listened as they begged, wept, denied, threatened. But he had ended every one of their lives and anyone else who stood between him and them. But it didn't last. Someone stopped him, someone called Shepard. Shepard had been with him on Akuze, he had presumed he had died with all the others, but there Shepard was, still standing, as strong as ever, alongside a Quarian and a Turian, as if nothing had happened. Toombs was close, close to ending another life in pain and anguish, the life of one Doctor Wayne. But Shepard spoke to Toombs, made things clear, the haze of hatred was lifted, however briefly, and for some reason Toombs could not to this day understand, he let the doctor live. After that it had all been debriefings and discharges and psychiatric help, but it was all just a buzzing irritation to him. He didn't want to be fixed, he didn't believe he could, he had died on Akuze with his squad, and all that was left was a shell.

He began his morning routine, his gruelling physical workout, his sparse breakfast, his warm glass of water (something he had grown oddly fond of) and his eventual departure from the apartment. He wandered around the streets of the space station where he lived for a few hours, and then he went to the nightclub Afterlife for a drink. He would stay there for a few hours, until the restless agitation built within him, then he would wander again for a few more hours, before returning home and falling into a restless sleep. After that, he would awaken again and repeat the whole process.

Aleena stepped off the shuttle, onto Omega's dock, and grinned. This place seemed to get uglier every time she came, but right now, she didn't care, because right now she was going to meet her employer and get a big fat pay-check. She began to walk towards the docking exit, when something moved beside her. Slowly, she turned, the grin still evident on her face.

"Well well, Fargut! My good friend Fargut... You the guy they sent to meet me?" The salarian shrunk under her gaze, breathing slowly, heavily, and then grinning.

"Ahaha! Miss Aleena, always a pleasure, always! Yes uh... They want to meet you in the private booth in Afterlife." Aleena shot him a sideways glance, her hand resting lightly on the pistol holstered at her side. Fargut's eyes widened.

"That is, uh... So long as it pleases you, Miss." Aleena smiled wickedly, perhaps it was unnecessary, but she couldn't allow him to forget how one speaks to an Asari Commando. She nodded and began to stride purposefully towards Omega, still grinning. This job had thrown her head-first through hell, and if it wasn't for the astronomical payoff, she would never have accepted it, but now it was finished, and she was ready to cash in her chips. Afterlife was strangely quiet for the time of the day, but Aleena didn't mind, she would make enough from this to retire (not that she actually wanted to), the place could be as empty or as packed as it liked. On any other day, Aleena would've seen the increased amount of armed militia; she would've seen the fact that all the exits were in the process of being locked. She would've noticed how the patrons were eyeing her nervously, slowly beginning to leave through the main door, the only one now open. But she didn't, and it would cost her dearly.

Toombs sat at the bar, not drunk, but drinking heavily. He found that he could no longer get drunk; something that Cerberus had done to him during their experiments rendered it impossible for him. He had tried a large number of narcotics; none of them had any effect on him anymore. He had tried poisons, venoms and acids, but none of them seemed to do anything to him. He was immune, an unexpected side-effect of the hundreds of brutal tests they ran. He often wondered what else he was now capable of, but his lifestyle didn't call for him to find out. So instead he drank, watching the other patrons flittering nervously around, heading for the exit. He didn't notice how strange this was until he looked again, his curiosity now piqued. He looked around; everyone was moving, leaving fast, except the security, of which there was plenty. Something was going to happen, he should leave. But as he looked down and began to move, he realised, he hadn't finished his drink. He sat back down as the last of the people left. Something was happening in one of the private booths, but Toombs was uninterested. He heard something moving behind him.

"I'd get out if I were you, human." A Batarian, big, heavily armoured, was carrying an M-15 Vindicator with a custom barrel. Toombs put down his drink.

"I'm good here, Batarian." The Batarian laughed, then grabbed Toomb's shoulder.

"I wasn't asking. Leave. Now." Toombs looked at his sympathetically.

"At least let me finish my drink." Then he turned away from the Batarian and continued drinking. The Batarian stood, stunned for a short while, before grabbing Toombs again, yanking him from his chair. Toombs took his drink with him.

"What the hell is it with you stinking humans?" He grunted. Toombs turned to face him, bringing the glass into contact with his eyes harshly. The Batarian screamed as the nightclub exploded into gunfire. Toombs grabbed his gun and leapt behind the bar, watching as various mercs were sent flying across the room by an unknown biotic assailant. Toombs grimaced, maybe he should've left. Too late to worry about it now, he hadn't liked the Batarian's tone anyway. From within the private booth, An Asari took shots at the various thugs who threatened to overrun her position. She was good; Toombs knew that just from seeing her, she'd seen action. But she was outnumbered. Toombs closed his eyes, this wasn't his fight, he should just leave. But he felt something within him, stillness, and a calmness he hadn't felt in a long time. He was at peace now, in this fight. Without thinking he rushed the two Turians in front of him, one of them was beaten to the floor; the other took a thermal clip to the face at point blank range. From the floor, the surviving Turian yelled for help, alerting a nearby Krogan Mercenary, before he was silenced by a few shots to the chest and head. The Asari looked, surprised, at the man who seemed to be assisting her, then shrugged and continued to fire at the oncoming forces. The Krogan rushed Toombs, smashing into him with full force, sending him smashing into the bar. Toombs was back on his feet quickly, he hardly registered the blow. The Krogan began to walk towards him now, reloading his shotgun. Toombs darted to the side, picking up a stool and launching it at him. The Krogan swatted it away, firing a hail of bullets towards Toombs. For his part, Toombs ducked, slipping behind an upturned table and firing into the Krogan's chest. He did this until the Krogan threw the table aside and beat him around the head with his own weapon. Toombs, felt pain sear through him, but he suppressed it, looking for something to keep the Krogan away with. Suddenly, another mercenary was shot into the back of the Krogan, sending him staggering. The Asari offered Toombs a hand and as he stood, she eyed him up cautiously.

"Who are you?" She demanded. Toombs shrugged. The Asari aimed her rifle directly at his head.

"Tell me your name, human, and you get to live." Toombs laughed.

"That the thanks I get for lending a hand?"

"I'm thankful, not trusting. Your name, please." The Asari asked again.

"My name is Toombs, Corporal Toombs." Toombs began to walk away, the Asari following fast.

"What exactly are you doing here Corporal?"

"Minding my own business, or at least I was trying to." The Asari stopped.

"So you're not with Kuril?" Toombs turned to her, frowning.

"Who's Kuril?"

"Kuril is the Turian bastard who set this up, him and the rest of those Blue Suns assholes." Toombs grinned.

"Good old fashioned set up. Nice." Now the Asari walked away.

"Not for me. I'm gonna find that bastard Kuril and blow his brains out. Then I'll take the money he owes me and go." Toombs laughed and the Asari wheeled around to face him.

"Something in your throat, Human?" She asked threateningly, but Toombs just waved her off, suppressing his laughter.

"You think this Kuril guy's gonna let you waltz in and off him like that? You got no chance, Asari." The Asari turned to walk away.

"I've had no chance before, friend; things turned out just fine then too." Toombs grinned, and moved to return to the wrecked bar, when they both heard something, a gargled battle-cry. The Krogan Mercenary was up again and rushing towards them, shotgun in hand. The Asari reacted before Toombs, creating a biotic shield to protect herself and forcing the Krogan to stop with a shot to the leg. Toombs disappeared briefly into the shadows, only to appear behind the Krogan moments later with his rifle. By the time the Krogan turned, the bullets had been fired and all he saw was a flash of red then black. Toombs stepped away, wiping the Krogan's blood from his face. The Asari walked towards him, frowning.

"I thought I killed him earlier?"

"Obviously not. Don't worry though, I got him." Toombs looked around absent-mindedly. The Asari saw something moving behind them and aimed her gun.

"Whoa! Don't shoot! Don't shoot me! I can help, you see?" The mercenary she had previously sent crashing into the Krogan had also survived, and was now cowering in a corner, his hands held above his head. The Asari pressed him against the wall with her biotic powers and strode over.

"You're one lucky son-of-a-bitch aren't you?" Toombs followed her.

"Not so lucky, now we have to kill him all over again." He informed her. The merc, whose face remained hidden by his blue suns helmet, protested loudly.

"Wait! You need to get to Kuril right? Well, well I can help, you see? I know things!" The Asari laughed.

"I know things too; I know over 500 ways to end a man's life in excruciating pain and misery." Toombs put his hand out, stopping her.

"Hold on Asari, let's hear him out." The Asari shot him a glance.

"What do you care, Corporal? This has nothing to do with you, if you value your life you should keep it that way." The merc interjected quickly.

"No! Wait! Just wait a minute! You want to kill Kuril, yes? But, but sometimes it's better to hurt, hurt him you see? We know what he wants; he's got his whole operation looking for it, looking for her! If you were to find her, take her form him, then he'd be worse than dead, you see?" Toombs and the Asari stared at him. It was a while before either of them spoke.

"Ah hell, I guess if it goes badly I can still kill you and go with my plan." The Asari declared, releasing her biotic force field and allowing the merc to stand. She faced the merc and began to speak.

"This isn't like Kuril; he doesn't like to get his hands dirty. Why the sudden change in tactics?" Toombs stared at her, confused.

"What? I still don't know who this Kuril guy is!" The Asari sighed.

"He's a prison warden, runs the prison ship Purgatory. He hired me to track down and retrieve some wanted criminals for his prison, pays well for each head. Best job I've had in a while." Toombs nodded.

"Okay, that makes sense, so why did he screw you over?" The Asari laughed weakly.

"I guess he decided I was worth more to him in a cell than on the payroll. I have enemies in high places; perhaps someone made him an offer? It doesn't matter, he crossed me, he pays." Toombs nodded again.

"And who is he looking for now?" The Asari asked the merc.

"A criminal, a dangerous one too, you see? Calls herself Jack, powerful biotic, human too. She's supposed to be connected to Cerberus you see? But I don't know how, maybe she works for them or something, I don't know. But that's who he wants. You get her first and he'll be pissed." The Asari laughed again

"Oh I like the sound of that. I guess this is where we part ways then, eh Corporal?" She nudged Toombs, but his mind was elsewhere. The very mention of that name, Cerberus, brought it all back. The wave of hate and pain, the unquenchable drive to maim and kill, if this Jack could lead him to them, then he would ensure that she did, and then he would kill her.

"No." Toombs stated, the Asari stared blankly at him.

"What you say?"

"No. I'm coming with you, so is he." Toombs pointed at the merc slowly edging away. He hung his head and returned sadly.

"Oh joy, this mission won't end with me dead, not even a little bit." He moaned.

"Shut up merc. You want in, human? I ain't in the mood for a buddy act; Kuril's none of your business." Toombs began to walk to the exit.

"Kuril's all yours; I need to speak with this Subject Zero. Cerberus and I have unfinished business and she could be my only way of finding them." The Asari grimaced, this human was trouble. She could feel the hatred coming off him; she could sense the blatant madness that surrounded him. She had seen how his whole body stiffened upon hearing the word Cerberus. He was unstable, dangerous, possibly psychotic, the worst possible choice for a partner. The Asari grinned, she liked him already.

"The names Aleena." She told him, holding out her hand, Toombs shook it.  
>"We leaving?" He asked, Aleena nodded, finally exiting the nightclub. Toombs followed and grinned, he finally had his lead, he was on their trail again. He remembered his psychiatrist's words to him, and finally understood them. He did have a purpose; he had survived for a reason. That reason was to kill. To kill Cerberus.<p> 


End file.
